


Jamais Au Revoir

by madsthenerdygirl



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-27
Updated: 2016-03-27
Packaged: 2018-05-29 11:06:56
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,362
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6372331
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/madsthenerdygirl/pseuds/madsthenerdygirl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He promises himself that it's not permanent, but it still hurts.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Jamais Au Revoir

**Author's Note:**

> This story was originally posted on fanfiction.net in 2013 and is now being crossposted here along with the rest of my work. God I love this pairing and I'm so mad about the shitty writing A&E have put them through--but that's a slippery slope that we won't go down. For now, enjoy.

He almost couldn't believe that he had her back. The past few months had been physically painful, having to deal with the ramifications of the spell he himself created, one that it turned out he didn't fully understand. In a way, he was the one who stole her memories from her and set her up to be that… that twisted, funhouse mirror version of herself, because if he hadn't created that spell…

He'd learned his lesson now, though. He was through with the meddling unless it was firmly on the side of the good. If not for his own sake, then for Belle's and--gods help him--Bae's. Bae… his precious child. He failed him so many times. He couldn't fail Belle like that.

And yet, to honor Bae… he had to.

They had to stop what Tamara and the others (whoever they may be) had planned, and he could not sit idle while others fought the good fight. He couldn't save his son, but he could avenge him.

Belle understood. She always had, even when she shouldn't. She sat on his desk in his shop, her legs swinging gently as she watched him gather odds and ends. She didn't say a word, but she smiled softly as her eyes followed him around the room.

"You don't have to watch, dearie," he informed her. "I know you have a library to tend to."

Belle's smile grew as she thought of her library, cared for so tenderly. "I know," she replied. "But it can wait. I'll have plenty of time to tend to it later."

 _Later_ , as they were both aware, meant after he was gone.

"I can't have you keeping the library closed on my account," he insisted. "Go on. I'll be sure to stop by later."

"Later?" She arched her eyebrows, that bullshit-calling tone in her voice.

She knew him too well. "Before I leave," he promised her.

"Very well," she said, only half teasing. She bestowed a kiss upon his cheek before she slipped out the door, leaving him to his preparations.

When he found her, he only had about an hour before he had to meet the others. He opened the door to the library, the bell above tinkling to announce the presence of a visitor.

Belle appeared from between some shelves, her friendly smile quickly morphing into a much broader, more genuine one.

"You came," she said, hurrying over. Her arms looped around him and she kissed him soundly, joyfully.

"Did you ever doubt it, dearie?" He asked her.

She ignored the question, which is probably just as well. "You're just in time," she told him. "I finished only a minute ago."

"Finished what?" He asked, curious.

In response she took his hand and lead him towards the back, where the light was dim and no one could see them from the outside. He was surprised to see a lovely little nest set up, with a mattress and pillows and blankets. A few candles are lit, set far enough away that they wouldn't tip over and set the bedding ablaze.

"What's this?" He asked, although he was pretty sure he already knew.

Belle fidgeted adorably, a blush tainting her cheeks. "Well, we haven't… I mean, we never really got the chance to…  _express_  our feelings, and now that you're leaving and we don't know when we'll be seeing each other again and I just… well." She gestured towards the nest of bedding, her smile an embarrassed one.

He strode over as best he could with his lame leg, cupping her chin in his hand and tilting her head up so that he could kiss her. So sweet, his Belle, but certainly not afraid to take what she wanted if no one would give it to her.

"Are you certain about this, Belle?" He asked, just to be sure. He would never want to hurt her in any way, physically or emotionally. She only just recovered her memories for the second time in less than a year--she must be fragile.

But then, Belle French was anything but delicate or timid. She looked at him, incredulous, then down at his… um, assets, and then back up at him. She then looked down at herself before raising her gaze up to him again.

"I'm sorry?" She repeated, hands on her hips. The corner of her mouth was twitching, though, so he knew she was amused.

He got the point.

She elaborated, though, just to make certain, as her hands skimmed up his arms to wrap around his neck once again. "I'm not going to regret this, Rum," she whispered. "Give me something more substantial to remember you by. Give me some good memories, memories that truly belong to me."

He couldn't resist her, not when she said things like that in her soft, honest voice. He slipped his arms around her waist, pressing her smaller body against his, feeling the curves underneath her dress. It had been a long time, but from what he could remember from his times with Milah he was a bit clumsy and rather nervous. He vowed not to be that way with Belle. He wanted her to enjoy this, and he especially didn't want to hurt her. That, he couldn't bear.

Belle must have sensed his self doubts, because she kissed him with more tenderness than he thought was possible to convey. He deepened it, hesitant at first but more confident as she responded to him. As he scraped his tongue against the roof of her mouth she gave a sharp inhale through her nose, her hips pressing insensately against his. She speared her fingers into the hair at the back of his neck, toying with it, gently scraping her fingernails along his skin. He tightened his grip on her slightly, moving one of his hands to span the small of her back, and she made a tiny, delicious mewling sound in the back of her throat that he immediately became addicted to. Somehow he found himself pushed back, stumbling slightly on his bad leg, landing hard of the mattress but unable to care because Belle was immediately straddling him, her long, creamy legs pinning him to the spot.

His fingers trembled slightly as he undid her buttons, gently smoothing them over the inches of satiny skin that he uncovered. He leaned forward, unable to resist lapping gently at the skin, tasting her, working his way up to her neck where he began to suck, wanting to feel her pulse rush and draw her blood to the surface, creating a bruise to remind everyone just who she belonged to while he was away. Belle kept making those beautiful little mewls, gasping as her thighs clenched around him. He was painfully hard now, and a bit worried about how long he would last. The last thing he wanted was to behave like an inexperienced teenager and blow his load the second he entered her.

Belle sucked on the lobe of his ear, tugging gently with her teeth, working frantically to undo his suit (why on God's green earth did he even bother with a suit? It was so damn hard to get off--pun very much intended) and, succeeding, pushed it off of him and cast it aside like the offending thing it was.

While he had kept in shape as best he could with his lame leg, and he certainly didn't overeat, there was no denying that Rumpelstiltskin was no longer in his prime. He was wiry, that was true, but he wasn't one of the buff, waxed young men that any sane woman of Belle's age would be attracted to. He certainly took care to give himself a dignified look and he knew he was not unhandsome, but as far as physique went… yet Belle gave a sigh of contentment, pressing herself against him once again and nuzzling into the juncture of his neck and shoulder.

"Belle…"

"Shh," she chastised him, placing her hand in the middle of his chest and pushing downwards so that he was on his back. "Let me…"

He made to voice another protest, to assure her that if he wasn't worthy… but Belle began kissing her way down his chest, her dark locks curling like wood shavings around her face, laving a loving path downwards, ever downwards. She paused to tweak a nipple, flashing him a mischievous grin at his reaction. If he wasn't careful she'd turn into a right proper minx.

His need for control clawed at him, urging him to assert who was dominant here, but he knew the truth. Belle had always been the strong one in their relationship, the leader where it truly counted, and he wasn't going to give into his petty, dark side now. He didn't want to ravage or control her; he wanted to worship her, and how her how truly beautiful she was.

Her name was her description, her title, and he wanted her to feel that it fit her. He wanted her to feel what he saw when he looked at her: beauty, inside and out.

Rumpelstiltskin flipped them carefully, enjoying the giggle that Belle let out. He ran his hands over her curves, relishing in the feminine feel of her. He inhaled deeply, her skin smelling of raspberries and vanilla. A very insistent part of him wanted desperately to get on with it but for the moment he was content to press kisses into her skin, memorizing the taste and feel of her. She was incredibly soft, her skin smooth and unmarred, as clean as her soul.

He grew bolder, fueled by Belle's sighs and whispered encouragements, snaking his hands up to fondle her breasts. Milah had always been so cold to him, so distant and unresponsive, but it seemed that no matter what he did it was the right thing, because Belle was quite vocal about his attentions. She let him know, by word or sound, if what he was doing made her feel good. He made a note to thank her for that later, if he could get up the courage to do so without stuttering like an idiot.

At some point in time Belle began to arch her back and roll her hips against his, creating a delicious friction for him. It was amazing, sending jolts of white-hot pleasure to his groin, his already hard member begging for attention. Seriously concerned that he wouldn't last long enough inside of her for both of them to get the attention they needed, he slid a hand down between her thighs.

When he felt how wet she was, he couldn't help but groan and squeeze his eyes shut. He dragged a finger through her slick folds, searching for that elusive bundle of nerves. He finally found it; Belle gave hoarse cry and bucked beneath him. He rolled it between his fingers, working her until she was writhing beneath him. She was so deliciously vocal, something he hadn't expected but loved more and more each moment. He gave her clit one last pinch and felt her gush around his fingers, her throat bobbing as she gasped. He lapped up the sweat glistening at her throat like pearls. (Which reminded him, he needed to get her some nice jewelry… something to make her feel like a queen.)

"Now… Rum, please," she begged, her eyes shining with so much warmth. Even if he hadn't wanted to, he would have complied. He couldn't have refused her anything.

Fortunately, his body was practically begging him to comply.

He tried to be extremely careful as he entered her, for both their sakes, not wanting to hurt her or spoil the moment by shooting too soon. It had either been longer than he thought or Belle was just exceptionally perfect (his money was on the latter) but his eyes nearly rolled back into his head at the feeling of being sheathed in her. She was so tight, and hot, and he had to spend a minute focusing on his breathing in order to regain a semblance of control.

He began to move, slowly as he dared at first, then picking up the pace until they found a kind of rhythm together. Belle was clinging to him, her mouth right by his ear so he could hear every pant and gasp she made. It fueled him, driving him higher and higher, shedding all of his armor until he was stripped and raw, free falling into something that stole his breath away and filled him with gut-dropping pleasure.

When he came to himself again, Belle had a smile flitting across her lips, the rest of her face slack and lineless. He realized that he'd nearly collapsed on top of her, saving themselves only by falling to the side instead. His arm was looped around her waist, so he used it to pull her closer to him, feeling her chest rise and fall as he regained her breath.

"Thank you," she whispered, petting his hair and running her fingers through it.

"I don't know why you're thanking me, dearie." If anyone should be doing the thanking, it was he.

Belle laughed softly, but it was choked. "I'll treasure this."

He propped himself up on his elbow so that he could look down at her face, stroking her cheek softly. "This isn't goodbye, sweetheart," he whispered. "It's never goodbye. Only a temporary parting. I'll be back before you've had time to miss me."

Belle looked up at him, her eyes warm and wet, her face open and trusting. How she trusted him after all this time, after everything that he'd done…

As soon as he returned, he promised himself, he was going to shower her in gifts. He was going to make her feel like a princess, like a queen, like a goddess.

Belle curled against him, seemingly content to go to sleep right then and there, his words having soothed her. He reinforced his promise to spoil her rotten (not that she could ever be rotten, his Belle) just as soon as he came back.

And he would return, someday. He just had to keep reminding himself of that.


End file.
